Honey and Saliva
by Poli Almasy
Summary: one thing eventually leads to another, aftermath to 'simple motions' mfxpw, owxpw
1. Motion II part I

Title: Honey and Saliva  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: MarcusxPercy, HarryxRon, OliverxPercy, George+Fred  
Comment: Simple Motions in a sense was finished, since SM was about Oliver and Percy and obviously that has come to a conclusion. Besides I like writing bdsmish things to begin with. Percy pov once again. And the title is like crime and punishment only in reverse....if you get that you're probably a jrock fan and therefore cool.  
  
--  
  
It's sickening.   
  
At eighteen my boyhood lover was ripped away with a simple motion of a blade.   
  
At twenty my adult 'master' teases me with his blade and my blood runs like honey.  
  
It's sickening.  
  
--  
  
Oliver, I wish you could hear me now. If you can, could you just listen in for a bit? I know it's selfish of me, two years later, to ask for you to listen. But maybe now you can actually hear me. Just like you always wanted, to hear the inner workings of Percy Weasley the perfect prefect. You can hear me now, can't you? Please, if you can just listen. Anyone please listen.  
  
It took me a full year to get over the tremors completely. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming for you. Your blood still felt hot and wet and sticky against my chest, I could feel it burning into me. I could feel your last breath. Penny and I lived in a flat in London during that time. She wouldn't allow me to work for the ministry, neither would my parents. They wanted to keep me away from everything for a little bit. Until I got 'better.' I don't think I'll ever get better.  
  
Penelope really is the sweetest thing ever. She didn't deserve to spend another year of her precious life taking care of me. But she did and without a single complaint. Slowly I seemed to the outside world to be snapping out of it, when in reality I was just pushing things deeper and deeper inside as I always did. I always did until I met you. For a few brief months I was outwardly myself, and then I regenerated my cocoon where I now peacefully reside.  
  
At the end of the first year they deemed me fit to resume a normal life. 'He'll be ok now' they said. And no, no one ever asked me any questions. Only Penny and I and perhaps Ron and if Ron defiantly Harry and Hermione know. Only they know how desperately in love we were. I think the rest just assume because it's easier to assume then tear open scars they believe to have healed. Poor little Percy was raped by the strong Quidditch captain Oliver and while he didn't deserve to die Ron was valiant yet wrong in trying to defend his brother. It doesn't matter what they say, you're still dead, Ron is still on the run, and I am still hopelessly alone.  
  
They've never gotten anywhere close to finding Ron. Harry is certainly making sure of that. I'm sure by now they've expanded on their relationship. We always knew it was only a matter of time. I remember joking about it once or twice.  
  
After the first year I moved back home to the Burrow. I just can't tear myself away. Nearly got myself into trouble as well. The first night I feel asleep in Ron's room. Mum and Dad left it exactly as it was. I just crawled into his bed like I did the day of your funeral and wrapped the sheets around myself. Under the pillow was a small piece of parchment, it simply read 'I'm sorry, Percy. I love you.' It was unmistakably from Ron. He knew I would find it somehow, and I'm glad he sent it. I took out my quill and scribbled a note back. 'I forgive you. I love you.' Once I had finished I opened the window and let the parchment drop from my hand as it was carried away in the wind. It will find him, I know it. Maybe it hasn't yet, but some day it will, and then the cycle will be complete and we will have made our peace with each other and the world.   
  
Ginny found me the next morning curled up on Ron's bed with a little blood dripping from my lip. I still can't explain where it came from. But that was where my bloodlust, no, perhaps that isn't the right word. Masochism, that is where my masochism began.   
  
Every time I see my own blood pooling on my thin chest moved by shallow breaths I think of you and only you.   
  
My parents were horribly worried after that, always keeping a close eye on me as I began work at the Ministry. They were more then willing to accept me and commented that they were getting worried I would never come. It felt wonderful to be wanted. No one had wanted me since you. And then there was him.  
  
I couldn't believe it at first, Marcus Flint, Marcus who failed his N.E.W.T.s the first time around, working for the Ministry. He was the same as ever, but this time you weren't around to protect me. I wanted you so desperately. I really was the little lost prince searching for a hero. But the hero had already been slain, and I was left alone with the dragon.  
  
He would make little excuses to come visit me, to make work hell. Something different was behind his glassy eyes though. More then just hatred and envy, there was an animalistic lust there. It frightened me. It hit me all over again, how much I needed you there with me, supporting me. Whether it be as a friend or a lover I needed you and you weren't there.  
  
Forgive me for being weak. Please forgive me.  
  
I know he only wants me for my body, my thin arms and pale skin. He lusts after my weakness and tried to draw my soul out and into him. He tries to consume me whole but not the way you once did. Not because he wants to know every little detail of how I function. He draws me in to destroy me and every night he comes a little bit closer to his goal. He pulls out a little more and puts in something more corrupt, exchanging honey for saliva.  
  
And I let him. I fucking let him because I want to feel wanted. I've stopped my afair with love. Love is a thing of childhood dreams and whispers in the dark. I may no longer be an innocent but I am still very much a child. I can't shake away my childhood, just like you were never allowed release from adolescence. You were never given the chance, how unfair. And how selfish of me to hold myself back from a joy you would never be allowed. Or are you the one holding me here in childhood? I don't understand. I can't grow up.  
  
He'll be here any moment now, and I should let you go if you're there at all. I still don't know if you were supposed to be the love of my life or anything like that. But you cared for me and I cared deeply for you. No one will ever be able to take that away from us, even in death. Soon enough I'm sure I'll join you. But I can't expect you to wait for me. And I don't think I could wait for you.  
  
He knocks forcefully at my door as he always does. I should let you go, but I want you to stay, stay and watch us. See what your death has done to me. We're all just Pavlov's dogs right? Sex and blood are like my food and saliva. One precedes the other, you did that to me. Arousal feeds my blood lust.  
  
I should probably explain where I am. It's actually Marcus' flat in London. He has a distain for the wizarding world I suspect. It may be his but he likes the idea of breaking in, of 'raping' me against my will, he gets off on it. So on the nights he wants me I go to his apartment ahead of him and play meek for him.   
  
I open the door just a little and the next thing I know I'm pressed against the wall. He pulls me away and slams me against it again and again, blood rising up in my throat. I would have never wanted this with you, Oliver. But now I can't live without it.  
  
  
All for you. 


	2. Motion II part II

Title: Honey and Saliva  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: MarcusxPercy, HarryxRon, OliverxPercy, George+Fred  
Comment: There will be an explanation of why Ron killed Oliver eventually, but as I told audi "I'll burn that bridge when I get to it" don't you love mixed metaphors? I love Percy with all my little heart which is why I'm so terribly mean to him. And I hate leaving one dementional characters lying about.  
  
--  
  
"Don't leave me yet."  
  
The words are moist on the skin of my back, playing along the blood red mark left there. I think those words hurt more then any of my scars. Why do you tell me such things? You never ask me to stay, you always want me out as soon as possible. I'll see you tomorrow in the office no doubt and you'll hurt me with your words as you've hurt me tonight with your fists. Don't I give you enough to stay satisfied?  
  
You're word's weren't pleading, of course not, I'm the only one that pleads. I plead for what little you give me. Nor were they demanding, you're only demanding during sex. Sarcastic, no, you don't have the intellect for sarcasm. What was it then your words were tainted with?   
  
Why is it you're now the one I speak to in my mind? I swore never to do this with you, never. My mind was reserved for everyone but you. I wasn't going to let you into my thoughts, how miserably I've failed.  
  
"I don't belong to you."  
  
I don't, nothing of me belongs to you but my body for a few hours every once in awhile. You can't hold me like Oliver did. Never. The way I would give myself to him, I could never give myself to you that way. Never never never.  
  
"I know."  
  
They are words and nothing more. I can't tell your motivation behind them, why you say these things to me. As if we were equals though I know we are not on any level. Nothing will ever make you and I the same. You are so many negatives all at once. I stand up and cast a few charms to hide my wounds, but I never heal them with magic. There is something powerful about nursing them back myself, my little projects. I hide them so others cannot see, so they don't worry.   
  
"Weasley, do you only use me for sex?"  
  
Words and nothing more, who am I kidding? Words are everything. And that proves they are anything. I would have expected anything from your bruised lips but that. As if you use me for anything but sex. Why should my intentions and motivations be any different then yours? I'm furious on the inside but you don't know. If Oliver couldn't get inside my head I doubt you would ever either. You don't even call me by my first name. This is somewhat of a business relationship.  
  
"Do you just use me as an extension of yourself?"  
  
You're not intelligent enough to understand what you has just said. You're not kind enough to actually care for me. You're not graceful enough to pretend either one.  
  
"You give me something I need, and I give you something that you need."  
  
It's the truth, I'm not one for lying much as long as the right question is asked. We complete each other in the most superficial way possible. To live you need a heart and a brain, to find release I need you. I do need someone to abuse me, hit me, force me. I need that now. I suppose we are equals in bed. You may be the one with the illusion of control, but nothing ever happens that I don't want just as much as you do.  
  
I never thought of you as someone with feelings. Funny how everything is different out on the raft.  
  
Perhaps it's best that I just leave. It's painfully obvious you barely understand yourself at this point. You're feeding me pretty words to make me stay. Maybe you do want something more out of this, more then just sex and satisfaction. The point is I don't. Maybe your abuse all those years was just misplaced flirtations. I don't care and I never did. You're little more then a pest to me. Just now you're a useful one. Like a spider you keep to catch the flies. Don't ever think we're something more then what we are Marcus Flint. Even now after my fall from heaven, I am still too far above your level for you to reach me.  
  
Maybe we aren't equals after all.  
  
--  
  
Oliver, can you hear me? I'm starting, little by little to think that you can. Just by things that have been happening around me. Sometimes I'll be in a room that is so freezing cold but then I warm up a little bit. Is that you? You're protecting me even now, aren't you? I love you so much, Oliver. I can't wait until we're together again.  
  
Marcus was trying to get into my mind, can you believe that? My mind is only for you Oliver, I promise I won't let anyone else get in from now on. Only for you.  
  
I've discovered I don't need Marcus after all. It doesn't matter who's hands are on the knife that slices me, so now I just use my own. And I do it all for you, Oliver. To remind myself of how much I love you and how much you love me. Doing this brings me closer to you. All for you.  
  
I realize now what a favor Ron did us. We're so close now, aren't we? It's like you're inside me all the time now. I could bleed forever and you'd still be right inside me, he did this so we could be together eternally. I will bleed and bleed for you until you come back out of me so we can swallow each other back up again. Over and over such a beautiful cycle.  
  
Don't you love what I've become?  
  
--  
  
I can't believe what I did to myself last night. Sheets and clothing with blood caking upon it, I know I did this to myself but I hardly remember it. All I know is now I am paying the consequences. Mum will want to clean my sheets and my clothes. She'll know then that everything isn't all right with me. She'll know something is wrong and she'll try to protect me from the big bad things in the world until I'm all better. If only she could protect me from myself.   
  
Of course, being a wizard does have it's advantages and I magik the blood out of the sheets, she'll never have to know though part of me wants everyone to know, because someone actually might be able to help me. Well, I know who can help me but the idea of seeing him also makes me want to vomit. Although, I'm perhaps one of the few people on earth who knows exactly how to go about finding him.  
  
I need to find Ron. I need to end this before it destroys me, before it consumes me whole, tears out my lungs and keeps me from breathing. If it were up to me I would ignore it, but maybe I owe it to Oliver to find out why. There is no logical why. I doubt the actual why has any logic at all to it. This isn't about logic though, this is about the truth.  
  
He's starting his sixth year in the fall. He'd be starting his sixth year in the fall. He would be starting his third year with me. I'd be sharing this summer with him. One motion, four lives, it still seems so surreal.  
  
I look down onto my shirt, hanging loose about my shoulders but still tinged with blood. My chest is so pale and thin and wounded. In my mind the scabbed cuts are still now bleeding. Rather then removing the blood stains I transfigure the blood into honey. By the time Mum figures out what it really is I'll be too far gone for her or anyone else to catch up.   
  
After I've done what needs to be done, well I don't really know what then. I could come back to the Burrow, to my home. But standing here in my room of so many years, I know that I'll never see it again. I need to make peace with this world and then it will be time for me to move on. Something about this world of wizards and magic, it's no longer accepting, no longer comforting. I have to leave it, but not until my letter reaches its destination. Only this time, I am the letter. But I can be lost and crushed just as easily as I fly away on my paper wings. 


	3. Motion II part III

Title: Honey and Saliva  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: HarryxRon, Percy+Penelope, OliverxPercy and MarcusxPercy  
Comment: FEAR THE MOTIVE. This chapter does not contain the motive, but I'm getting damn near close to it I promise. I wrote this while listening to the Japanese band Due le Quartz. I don't like them much but they give a 'slightly but not too crazy' edge to the writing I think. Fitting considering Percy is slowly but surely losing his mind :D   
  
Oh, and for the record, I'm atheist.  
  
--  
  
Penelope, Penelope my sweet little Penny. Find a penny pick it up, hope to god you don't get fucked. Round and round the carousel goes where it stops only the devil knows. Carousels in the sky, let the sleeping bastards lie.  
  
--  
  
I don't know even how I ended up in Penny's flat. One moment I was in the Burrow and the next I was here. In a stereotypical world I'd be soaking wet and freezing to death but It's actually rather warm out. You can't always get your tragedy done the right and proper way, but you have to make due with what you're given. If I were straight I'd fall in love with Penny instantly and we'd have lots of pretty little uptight children striving for that golden ring without enjoying a damn second of the ride. When all you think about is the ring, nothing else matters, you forget about the carousel.   
  
It was plain instinct to come here first though. Harry is the one I need to talk to right now, to set my little plot into motion.   
  
Motions, this all started with motions. Who would have thought one kiss would lead to one death? That's all that started this, one little kiss, more then I could have ever hoped for in my entire life. I wanted one thing and received the world for my troubles. But this is what I asked for, ask and you shall receive it would seem.  
  
I wonder what my next motion will lead to. Each moment in itself is a watershed. There is no going back in time, even the cleverness of magic cannot fool fate. There is no climax to life because there is no plotline to it. We are just the sum of our motions. I am just one part of a greater whole I will never understand and no matter how much I flail and how much I try I can never change what has already been done. Oliver and I have already fallen in love, Ron has already killed Oliver, Flint has already shared my bed, I have already become a masochist. All these things can never be taken back because they have already occurred. So what do I hope to accomplish in meeting Ron? What can possibly be done?  
  
Because a motion started this, a motion brought it to a climax, and now a motion will bring it to an end. This isn't a novel, it's not a story, it's not fiction, this is my fucking life and it's about time I took control of it. I cannot wait for fate because it is fate that has brought me to this point. A point I hate reaching but love for living. I will never wish for death. I am stronger then death I can beat it because Oliver couldn't. Oliver, are you listening now? Look at the child we have given birth to. Look at my obsession, my desire, look at me and see what we've created. Only our perfect love could create something so terrifying. Only we could create the man I am today.  
  
Oh god, what's wrong with me.  
  
I've begun shaking all over again and Penny has dropped the tea tray she went to retrieve from the kitchen. She's by my side as she was at Oliver's funeral. Without even looking at her I know there are tears in her eyes. She worries terribly for me, I'm beginning to worry about myself.  
  
"Percy, oh God."  
  
Her slender arms wrap around my shoulders trying to calm me, trying to stop the shaking that I have no control over. Her hair smells like coconut and her arms like vanilla. She is so utterly Muggle in appearance and demeanor. Even after all her years at Hogwarts she still maintained a strong idea of who she is. And who she is happens to be a girl from London who likes watching people move in streams across the crowded streets from the window in her flat. She told me about it once. How when she was a little girl she would just watch the people move like insects across the ground below from her parent's balcony. And then when we lived together that first year out of school and we didn't have a balcony, she would sit on the edge of the window and just watch the people. Sometimes she would cry. I would sit on the sofa and shake and she would just cry and cry. She's a little disturbed as well. Actually, I think I made her disturbed. She was a sweet normal little girl until I took it upon myself to invade her sweet pretty little world.   
  
I would give the world to stop shaking now, to be the one to dry Penny's tears and tell her everything is going to be alright. But that would never work, because she's not the one with the problem. I need to tell myself that everything will be alright. I need to be able to lie to myself.   
  
Slowly I begin to calm now and my shake is nothing more then a twitch. She lets go of me and raises one of her hands covered in her white dress shirt to wipe her eyes. The tears are gone before I can utter a note of reassurance. A smile spreads across her porcelain face, god I want to break her like the doll she is.  
  
It's odd, I'm the only one in my family that says things like 'oh god' or 'Christ's sake' or anything like that. Naturally, none of them have a concept really of God. The reason we get Christmas holidays and the like off are because of Muggle-borns and half bloods and such. They're used to getting Christmas off and they have a sense of God. It's something purely Muggle we never question but we don't quite understand. And my family, we're so deeply Wizarding that any trace of God we may have had was lost long ago. Christmas is a time for gifts and snow and warm fires and home. It's not about the birth of our savior. Yet another thing my family will never know about me. I've found God and I pity the fact they have not.  
  
I mean, I don't have any sort of set faith. It's hard to when you don't have anyone to guide you. But I love Muggle literature, I always have. When I read the Scarlet Letter, I was twelve maybe. I didn't understand a lot of it but I wanted to know God. I felt the weight of sin. True, I didn't understand much of it but it was a start. The irony of scarlet and gold, it was enough to get me hooked on it.  
  
After Oliver died I started wearing a cross. The only time I took it off was when I was with Marcus. He wouldn't understand it, he would dirty everything it meant to me. Besides, I went to him to bleed my soul clean. Penny bought me the cross. She's the only one who knows about my expeditions into religion. The week after we moved into the flat she brought it in a little scarlet box with white lining, my gold cross.  
  
Scarlet, gold, white. The end always leads back to the beginning. It's an endless cycle, don't give up on your revolution.  
  
Her fingers go to my neck and the chain that hangs there. Maybe she can read my mind, maybe not. She tugs at the thin chain and pulls the cross out into the open where the light catches the edges of it. Just like my prefect badge used to catch the light. They're so similar. Something not fully understood by those who are not associated with it. Revolutions. She kisses me on the forehead while she breaks the clasp on the chain and holds on to it tightly in her palm. I feel both naked and relieved when she does this.  
  
"I can read you like a book, Percy Weasley."  
  
"And you always were at the top of the class."  
  
"Right behind you."  
  
"Now go finish this revolution of yours."  
  
But while she can read me she doesn't understand that the revolution can never end. It's the most perfect motion in existence. When the revolution ends, there is no reason to go on living.  
  
--  
  
Simple paths and innocence in the dark  
A shared ambition by endless ecstasy  
I can walk, a motion, nothing more  
We breathe, a motion, shared, together  
Complex  
Alone, crushed because  
Simple motions, simple motions 


	4. Motion II part IV : Resolution

Title: Honey and Saliva : Resolution  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: HarryxRon and OliverxPercy are the only ones that really matter anymore  
Comment: Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was a sin to have a lead male in a yaoi to have a female friend. I've always found that rather silly you know. Ah well. Oh yeah, should I mention the fact this chapter contains "the motive". Fear it. That and I wrote this while listening to industrial music o.O   
  
--  
  
We'll be together so soon Oliver, so soon. Nothing will be able to keep us apart once I find him, once I know why you were taken from me it will all make sense and you will be avenged and we'll be together. It will be so sweet when we are together again, when our blood runs through the same veins and we can taste each other. I'm so much more then I used to be Oliver, I love you so much more. I don't question our love like I used to. No, there is no reason to because now I understand. I belong to you Oliver, we belong to each other and he tore us apart. God tore us apart. I hate God because I love you and there is no other way to go about it. God tried to keep us apart but even He cannot stop me now. Nothing can stop me from coming to you. Wait for me, love.  
  
  
--  
  
"You have to take me to him, Harry, you know that."  
  
He still looks so small, still looks thirteen even though he'll be sixteen soon. Time sort of froze in that moment I suppose. It was hard enough trying to track down Harry at his Muggle relatives I couldn't imagine having to find Ron on my own. I know Harry doesn't want to take me to him. He's afraid of what I'll do. I won't do anything to Ron though, I don't want to do anything I just want to know everything. This is something I can't learn from books or teachers, this is something Ron has to tell me.   
  
"He regrets it now, you know? Now that he understands, he wishes he could take it back."  
  
"I've already forgiven him."  
  
"He doesn't need your forgiveness."  
  
He's a murderer, that's what Ron is. I have a murderer for a brother but I don't care, I never did. He's my brother, a brother that killed my lover and now the whole world is crashing down around me. I don't have much time. And Harry so small and frail but so brave and strong. I may not have seen my brother in over two years but I know his entire life up to this point by just looking in Harry's jade eyes. They tell me enough to connect the dots. They tell me what I already know.  
  
"Harry? Are you alright?"  
  
Hermione Granger's voice just outside the door with the chipping white paint. A pretty little voice, an innocent one with all the sweetness of adolescence. She's just on the other side of the door but she doesn't know how far away she really is. A single door can mean everything even if there is a keyhole to look through. A turn of the handle and she's crossed the obstacle of the door. Physical obstacles are nothing compared to those in our mind. Her hair isn't bushy as it used to be but softly curly and a perfect frame to her unusually plain features. She's almost pretty. She's almost Penelope.  
  
"Percy."  
  
The next thing I know she's hugging me as if we were long time friends and not mere acquaintances. She's tall for her age and sex and in her platformed Mary Jane shoes she probably stands taller then Harry but not quite as tall as I. Ron's probably taller then all of us. She smells like vanilla, she smells like Penny. Her eyes are the kind of dark, deathly brown I always wished I had. You could drown in her eyes, I'm drowning in her kindness.  
  
"Percy, come with us and we'll show you him."  
  
He doesn't dare seek my eyes. People with light eyes, you can always read their emotions from them. Blue, green, hazel, amber, violet, people with eyes like that, you can see right through into their soul. But Hermione and I, no, all you see in our eyes is darkness. There is nothing else but that to see in my eyes.   
  
--  
  
"I planned to kill Oliver Wood three days before I did it."  
  
There is no hello, no acknowledgement, no eye contact. He just starts speaking to me as if I were a tape recorder, not as if I were a human. He just knows I am here and he begins with this story. I don't need context or an introduction to it, the context and the introduction is my life.  
  
"Charlie had given me a knife for Christmas, it was beautiful. I don't have it anymore. Every time I looked at it I got sick, every time I looked at it I saw Percy and Oliver in bed together. That knife drove me crazy."  
  
He doesn't even talk as if I'm there.  
  
"I got it for Christmas and I thought it was pretty but I didn't think much more of it. Maybe if over the summer I went to visit Charlie I could find some use for it. It seemed like a pretty impractical gift even if it was beautiful. I kept it next to my bed in the top drawer of the dresser next to my wand. The only other person who ever saw it was Harry, I didn't want it taken away or anything. So I forgot about it for a few months. Then there was that day at the Quidditch pitch, I was watching Harry fly. There still is nothing like watching Harry fly, he's just so natural about it, like the broom knows what he wants ages before he knows it himself. And then Percy came running out to the pitch like a madman. I had no idea what was wrong.  
  
"And then just for a moment I caught Percy's eyes. They looked so scared, so afraid when Oliver touched him. They screamed out to me 'help help' something was wrong but I didn't know what. After a week or two I didn't think about it anymore though and then it hit me. And it was such an odd way it hit me too. Harry, well, Harry kissed me. Oh it was totally innocent on the cheek and all, real friendly you know. But it sparked something in my mind. All those little things between Oliver and Percy, they were snogging each other. I knew it then because I realized all the little things Harry and I did to each other they did too. It was weird because I'm not, that way, but it all clicked together. Oliver Wood and my brother Percy.  
  
"Well, that's about the time I started thinking about the knife again. It just seemed so much prettier when I looked at it after that. It had never been used and it was just perfect and all. Once I accidentally sliced my finger with it because I was admiring it a bit too closely I guess. The blood was so red and wet and tempting. That's the night I realized that it was my duty to kill Oliver Wood.   
  
"The idea just sort of came from no where in particular. But I repeated it over and over in my head. It was my right, my duty to kill Oliver. I kept trying to figure out why. My mind kept telling me that I had to do it but I didn't know why I had to do it. It was so consuming. The more I thought about it the less I knew where the idea began. At dinner, the night before, Oliver whispered something into Percy's ears and he blushed a sort of innocent red. He looked uncomfortable and tense. And then I realized that Percy didn't want Oliver to be doing these things. Percy wasn't in love with Oliver, not at all. I went back to my dorm and looked at the knife again, ghosting over where I had cut myself.  
  
"I decided that the next night I would go talk to Percy, just talk to him and find out what was going on. Maybe then I could drive away those uneasy feelings. I didn't want to kill Oliver, but that voice, that voice kept speaking to me over and over to do it. I had to drive it away. Where I normally kept my wand, in the sleeve of my robes I slid the knife in. It was heavier then my second-hand wand and it pulled down my arm as I walked from the third year to seventh year dorms. I pulled open the heavy wooded door and there, on the lovely four poster bed, was my brother. My brother and Oliver Wood there, just there, lost to everything. The look of pain on Percy's face, I couldn't stand it. I snapped, took the knife from the sleeve of my robe and cut deep."  
  
--  
  
I know you can hear me Oliver, why do you never speak back? I love you. I was wrong before when I said I didn't. I was lying to myself when I said it was an innocent little crush. We were made for each other, Oliver. Your blood runs through my veins and I try to bleed you back out. Everything I do I do for your sake. But still you do not come for me. I wasn't good enough for you then but I'm a changed man. I can be everything you'd ever want. I submit myself completely to you. Just please tell me again that you love me. Tell me again there is no one else. Even in death there can be no greater match. Can their be? God can't keep us apart any longer. I will give up God for you. Only for you. All for you.  
  
--  
  
"I killed Oliver Wood because I did. Because the series of events ended there. You can't change what you do. You can't change who you love or who you hurt. I can't change it now. The voice still comes to me sometimes. It tells me I did the right thing. I'm sorry."  
  
You can't change what you do. You can't change who you love or who you hurt. I can't change it now.  
  
We all have the voices that haunt us. Oliver's voice is so clear in my mind even now. Oliver and Marcus and Penelope, they all talk to me in my sleep. They paint the beautiful murals of my consciousness with fear and love and malice. I don't know who's voices paint the walls of Ron's mind. The images forever stained on the glass of his eyes can only be seen by him. Who am I to question the motivations of the living dead?  
  
His stained eyes fill with tears and I know someone is talking to him inside the depths of his mind. Harry whispers into his ear trying to drown out the internal voices with the power of his. Ron and I know that's impossible nothing can take away the voices who make you who you are. Hermione sits to Ron's other side silently watching on and Harry kisses his way down Ron's neck trying to comfort him. She's such an angel. 


End file.
